


If You Trust In Me, I Can Be Anything You Need

by zoemathemata



Category: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemathemata/pseuds/zoemathemata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on the sga_kinkmeme</p><p><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/sga_kinkmeme/3923.html?page=8#comments">Le prompt: - John/Rodney, begging, conditioning, d/S, dubcon</a></p><p>Months after he was kidnapped, John escapes and returns to Atlantis, but he's miserable. His captors conditioned him as a sexual submissive and to come on command and only on command. Embarrassed and desperate, craving the satisfaction and headspace of those experiences, he turns to Rodney for help. -<br/>UNBETAT'D</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Trust In Me, I Can Be Anything You Need

“I shouldn’t have come here,” John says, shaking his head. “It was a stupid fucking idea.”

“You wake me up at four in the morning and I don’t care if it’s the most moronic idea anyone’s ever had. You’re gonna tell me what it is,” Rodney says.

John stands in Rodney’s quarters, not looking him in the eye, hands on his hips, head tilted slightly down. The silence stretches out.

Rodney, seated in bed, shifts slightly. “Look, you came here for a reason. Just say it.”

John clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. But the silence still lingers.

“Um, is this about P2P-2R6? The Drulaks?” Rodney hedges.

John gives a sharp nod.

“Er, I read your report, but it was pretty vague,” Rodney continues. “Did you want to talk about something?”

“Not… talk.”

“Okay, Tarzan, then what?”

John fists his hands so hard he can feel his blunt fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms. He should leave, he should turn around and go back to his quarters right now, but part of him knows that even if he does that, Rodney will follow him. Rodney will hound him until John tells him the truth.

It’s the reason he came here in the first place.

“I can’t tell… I didn’t put it in my report and I didn’t tell Keller. Because I can’t… It’s not… When I was… when they had me…” John shifts on his feet. “They had these drugs and they could make you… whenever they wanted. And after… even without the drugs… it was only when they wanted. Only when they told you to.”

He can’t look up from the floor, he can’t raise his head, but he swears he can hear the powerful gears of Rodney’s head turning, can feel Rodney’s gaze on him. Rodney’s calm, scientific interest look - the one he uses when he’s solving a problem.

“And now, even though I’m back… and I’m here… I still… I can’t…” He finally looks up and meets Rodney’s eyes. “I need someone to tell me to. I need someone to tell me what to do.”

Rodney’s face is carefully blank as he pulls back the covers and stands up, making is way to John. He stops about a foot away from John, and John has to look away again. He can feel the heat rushing into his face, knows that under his t-shirt the flush has spread across his chest.

“I just want to make sure I understand and that we’re both talking about the same thing,” Rodney says calmly, like he’s confirming they have the same mission plans. “And if I’m wrong, you have to promise not to punch me.”

John laughs wryly. No, punching Rodney is pretty far from his agenda tonight. Rodney steps closer, into John’s space and John focuses on the soft fabric of Rodney’s worn t-shirt, dove grey, with faded writing across the front ( _May the F=ma be with you_ ).

“Do you need me to tell you to come?” Rodney asks carefully.

John can’t answer verbally. He can only manage a tight nod.

Rodney lets out a shaky breath and nods once himself. “And you need me to be in control?”

“Yes,” John manages.

“Okay,” Rodney says quietly. “I can do that.”

Even though they haven’t done anything yet, even though Rodney hasn’t even touched him, John wants to sigh in relief. He knew Rodney would help him, knew he wouldn’t make fun of him or ask embarrassing questions, but he’s still so goddamn relieved.

Rodney juts his chin up quickly and squares his shoulders. “Take of your shoes and your pants and get on the bed.” His voice has taken on a commanding tone and John feels another notch of tension seep out of him at it. It will be okay, he’s with Rodney now.

John kicks off his shoes and unbuckles his pants, letting them slide to the floor, leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt. He pauses, hands on the waist band of his boxers unsure. Rodney didn’t say anything about taking them off. The Drulaks were always very precise and if you didn’t follow exactly what they said, if you deviated one bit… no, he’s with Rodney now and he’s not going to think about that.

He steps over to the bed and hesitates again, not sure _how_ he’s supposed to be on the bed.  
He feels weird about asking. He never had to clarify anything with the Drulaks. Rodney must see him pausing, see the indecision because he comes up behind John and pushes down on his shoulder.

“Sit, with your back to the pillows, but more to the center of the bed.”

Another notch of tension dissipates as he follows the more precise instructions and climbs into Rodney’s bed. It smells warm and familiar.

Rodney climbs in behind him and John freezes for a moment, his body tense as Rodney pulls him back against his chest. He knows Rodney won’t hurt him, knows he wants this and it’s safe, but he still has the immediate instinct to jerk away, try to escape. He forces himself to take a deep breath. He’s barely leaning against the heat of Rodney’s chest, holding himself up slightly on his sit-bones, engaging his core to keep him balanced.

“Uh, you’re gonna have to… I mean… this isn’t going to work if you’re tense,” Rodney says, his voice low and loud so close to John’s ear. Rodney’s legs are circled around John, framing his ramrod posture.

“I just…” He can’t get anything more out. He wants to say that of course he’s fucking tense, he spent six months of his life being conditioned to be some kind of weird submissive sex slave and now he’s pretty sure he can’t come unless someone orders him to and he’s tried, oh he’s fucking tried _everything_ and he’s embarrassed and frustrated and angry and it’s four in the morning and he’s in his best friend’s room and he can’t even ask for what he needs it’s so fucking mortifying.

“Um, I don’t know if this will work… I mean, uh… I’m, uh…” Rodney’s voice is a little shaky and nervous John can feel the tension starting to come back.

“Forget it, just fucking forget it,” he says and tries to pull away.

Rodney’s arms tighten around him. “Don’t move.” His voice is now authoritative and firm, and he holds John against him, keeping him from moving.

“I’m going to tell you a story,” says Rodney.

Those words actually make John relax a bit. He wasn’t sure how it was all going to happen once he got here. He imagined fumbling, awkward talking and then even more awkward clothing removal, followed by some sort of extraordinarily awkward jerking off. He knew Rodney was bisexual, but he hadn’t imagined anything more involved than a frantic handjob, a really stilted ‘thanks’ and then a hurried goodbye.

This would have then been followed by a humiliating breakfast meeting where he would avoid all eye contact with Rodney.

Instead, he finds himself leaning back against Rodney’s chest, still wearing his t-shirt and boxers, Rodney dressed the same. Rodney’s lips are close to John’s ear and it’s actually kind of the perfect position. They don’t have to look at each other and he doesn’t try to have to avoid Rodney’s gaze. He can even close his eyes.

“I went to university when I was fourteen. They put me in a single dorm room. It was on the third floor and the elevator was constantly down for repair. The rooms had no air conditioning and in the summer the heat was oppressive, pushing up against you all the time. You could hardly think, you certainly couldn’t sleep. I tried to fix the conditioning unit in the basement, but the building was too old and the system couldn’t handle the power requirements, and four blissfully air-conditioned days after I had it running, the entire thing blew and they removed it all. So it was back to hot, sleepless nights.”

Okay, so it wasn’t a sexy story, thinks John, but it’s strangely relaxing to lie there in Rodney’s arms and listen to his quiet musings on air-conditioning and compressor units. There’s no pressure to do anything but be quiet and it’s the first time since he’s been back that he actually thinks he might be able to fall asleep without being frustratingly humiliated by his body’s lack of co-operation.

“I was sixteen when Damon moved into the dorm room next to mine. He was a rugby player and he was… he was all young athlete. Untempered strength and exuberance, muscles and spirit. Of course, I didn’t think any of that at sixteen. At sixteen I took one look at him and thought, Jesus he’s hot. Black hair, dark eyes. And then I ducked behind a corner and hoped he didn’t see me. The jocks were particularly hard on the nerds and it didn’t pay to make yourself visible to them. Damon moved in two weeks before the fall semester started. I was in summer session still, taking extra credit classes. I stayed at the university year round and you couldn’t have paid me to go back to my parent’s house.

“Damon started university with a vengeance. He had two weeks until classes started and it was like he was trying to get all his partying in before he actually had to get any work done. The walls were paper thin and I’d hear him stumbling in drunk at one am, two am, three am. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes I’d hear the high-pitched giggle or squeal of an equally drunk girl. He certainly wasn’t shy and he had an entourage coming in and out of his dorm room to prove it.”

John can feel his breathing and heart-rate slowing down and he fractionally relaxes his body against Rodney’s, letting more of his weight lean against Rodney’s sturdy chest. He can feel the rumble of Rodney’s voice against his back when he speaks and it’s calm and soothing.

“One afternoon, there was a knock on my door and it was Damon. He said, ‘You’re some kind of nerd, aren’t you?’ And I said that yes, I was a physics major getting my masters thesis and he smiled and told me to come over to his room and fix his computer. He didn’t ask, he didn’t request, he just told me to come over and he was beautiful and I couldn’t get over there fast enough. It was some stupid software problem and his machine was horribly out of date and I told him so and he laughed and said that I was welcome to fix it since he didn’t know shit about computers.

“And then he started complaining about the heat and I told him it had been that way for years and rambled on that I’d fixed the unit years before and he smiled and said he was sure that I did and then he asked if I knew that they had cut holes in the wall for air circulation at some point and then boarded them back up. I told him that if they had, it had been an absolutely ridiculous idea and what they needed was a new circuit breaker and to lay down new lines to the building and he just smiled wider and pointed to the wall that connected his room and mine, showing me the loose wood panel that covered over the circulation hole.

“He pushed the panel aside and said, ‘see, it goes right into your room.’ and I just stared up at him. Then he said, you know, if this panel wasn’t on, I bet if you wanted to, you could even see into my room. And he smiled at me again and then thanked me for fixing his computer and told me he’d see me around.”

John’s practically boneless against Rodney now, and he feels warm and safe, breathing in Rodney’s familiar scent and hearing his voice. At the last part of Rodney’s story, he feels his groin start to pay better attention to the words, already thinking ( _hoping_ ) about where the story will go.

“That night, as usual, I heard Damon stumble into his room drunk and this time, it wasn’t a girl he was with. It was a deeper voice, another guy’s voice and my heart was pounding so hard in my ears, I was sure the entire floor could hear it. I was so scared and excited. I was pretty sure I’d understood exactly what he wanted me to, I mean, hello, fucking genius here, but I was still scared to death that I’d go over to the wall, peek through and find myself getting the shit kicked out of me seven ways to Sunday before the end of the night. I got out of bed and I was already hard. I was sixteen, even seeing the word sex made me hard. I’d already moved the desk that sat by the wall that afternoon and found the spot on my wall that matched the wood paneling in Damon’s room. There was a small slit that you could see through and there was light coming from his room. That slit was like a flashing beacon and I crawled up to the wall and pressed my face against it.”

Rodney’s running his hands up and down John’s side slowly, like he’s calming a scared horse. It’s light, and careful and John sighs. It’s all going to be fine now, Rodney will take care if it. All he has to do is sit back and listen to Rodney’s voice in the dark. He doesn’t have to move or do anything, Rodney will take care of him.

“I could hear them before I could see them. Panting, groaning, moaning. It was like the best porn come to life and it was real and it was _right next door_. I knew I was into guys, but I never had time to figure it out, to learn anything. The internet was shit at that age - it would take you twenty minutes just to dial up and then good luck downloading anything with images or video. It took me a second to figure out what I was looking at, the angle was funny and even though there was a light on in his room, it was off to the side and was shitty and threw funny shadows. And then I realized that I was seeing Damon getting fucked by another guy.”

One of Rodney’s hand slips under the waistband of John’s boxers and is carefully running up and down the length of John. John can feel the blood pooling low in his belly, feel his dick getting harder under Rodney's careful but firm touch. Rodney smoothes up and down the length, his fingers curling under slightly at the bottom and then back up again. John arches his back slightly, giving Rodney better access, and Rodney’s hand dips a little lower, running over John’s balls and then back up his cock.

“Damon was completely naked and was gorgeous, his head thrown back and he was making these _sounds_ , these sounds I’d never fucking heard before, whining deep in his throat. I’d never seen the other guy before, but he must have been on some sports team, something like running, because he was just long muscles, no beef on him at all except his ass was cut, dimpling in on the side every time he pushed hard into Damon.”

John’s hard now and he thinks he should be nervous that this isn’t going to work. This is the stage he keeps getting to: hard - hard enough to come but then nothing happens and he ends up frustrated and angry. Rodney’s hand moves a little quicker over his dick, stopping at the top to gather the pre-come and then rubbing it over the length. John wants thrust up, wants to move but he’d been conditioned to stay perfectly still, to do nothing unless told to. Rodney’s other hand dips lower and cups John’s balls, heavy and tight from weeks of not coming. John moans and pushes his head back against Rodney’s chest.

“I couldn’t look away. I could see the other guy’s dick pushing into Damon, and then pulling out and I couldn’t watch anything but that place. In and out, steady and slow. In and out,” Rodney says quietly into John’s ear, moving his hand at the same pace. “Move your hips for me John, up and down, just like that.”

A small whimpering noise comes from John’s throat at the permission to move and he can’t stop it from coming out. He’s whining now too, fisting his hands in the sheets. He feels like a tightly strung bow - ready to snap and if he gets this far, if he gets this far this time and isn’t allowed to come, he thinks something in him might break forever.

“Please, Rodney, please. Say it. Say it please,” he begs.

“Shhh. You trust me, don’t you?” Rodney says soothingly. He keeps one hand moving up and down John’s dick but his other slides in between them, dipping down John’s back and teasing at the very top of the cleft of his cheeks.

“Rodney, please, I have to, please.”

“Damon was begging too, begging for harder, faster, more and his friend was willing to comply to everything, fucking him harder, fucking him faster, pulling his hips back and slamming into him. I could hear his balls slapping against Damon’s ass. I was so hard I knew if I laid one finger on myself I would come so I kept my hands pressed up against the wall.”

Rodney moves his hand faster over John’s cock and John’s thinks he might pass out if he doesn’t come soon. His entire groin feels hot and tight, painfully good. Rodney’s other finger is moving lower down the cleft of his ass, dangerously close to, but not touching, his hole.

“And then, the second before he came, he looked up, right at the wall, right at me and I _saw_ him see me. He knew I was watching, he wanted me watching and I couldn’t breathe, I couldn't blink and he smiled and then he came with a yell and I couldn’t stop myself from coming with him. I came all over the wall, thick and hot.”

John makes a long whining sound that almost turns into a sob but he doesn’t say anything, he can’t say anything.

“Would you like that too, John, would you like to come like that? Hot, thick and hard?”

“Yes,” he hisses. “Please.”

“Come now,” commands Rodney, clenching his fist and pressing his finger against John’s hole.

John comes immediately, hard and painful, his throat locking up, dick convulsing like he’s bursting open and all his insides are spilling out. It feels so good and his vision whites out as his back arches up the bed, his breath stuck in his lungs.

When he comes to, he’s panting hard, relaxed bonelessly against Rodney’s chest and Rodney’s rocking him side to side slowly and he realizes he’s crying with relief. Rodney making soft shushing noises in his ear.

He doesn’t feel embarrassed. He doesn’t feel ashamed. He doesn’t care about the crying, he doesn’t care about anything.

Rodney will take care of it. Rodney will take care of him. Rodney will take care of everything.


End file.
